A Little Unwell
by ShieldmaidenAndStrider
Summary: When young Aragorn [as Estel] falls ill, his hallucinations lead to unnerving discoveries for Elrond and his sons. Meanwhile, in Mirkwood, another problem grows. COMPLETE
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places thereof  
  
*****  
  
"Estel. Estel!"  
  
The boy shook his head, sending tendrils of black hair flying. Pushing his locks away from grey-blue eyes, Estel focused on the elf stand opposite him. For a moment his focus wavered, and he saw only a blur where a person ought have been, but at last he could see--decently, at any pace.  
  
"Estel, are you all right?" Elladan asked, concerned. The sparring lesson the two had planned for the hour was going nowhere fast. The elf lowered his sword and regarded the young mortal, then sheathed the weapon altogether and strode over to the boy.  
  
"I'm fine--" Estel protested as Elladan felt his forehead for fever.  
  
The elf shook his head. "No, dear, you are not," he replied. "Every time we cross blades you falter, and should you succeed to fend off my advances you are panting after only minutes. To add to this, you do feel quite warm. If you are ill, perhaps--"  
  
"No!" Estel interrupted a little too fervently. Elladan raised an eyebrow, and Estel quickly amended, "It is only being inside all the day; a bit of a walk shall do me no end of good, I am certain. As soon as we are finished here, I do think this is what I shall do: a nice walk, yes." Though aware of his babble, he seemed unable to stop it. How could Elladan possibly understood how he felt? Being a mortal in an elven society, though no one said anything to the effect, Estel was terribly conscious of himself: his bumbling, stumbling, breaking, tripping, clumsy self. Keeping his chin up was difficult enough, he needed no fever to make things even more so!  
  
Though he was quite tired. . .  
  
"That will be all for today, I think," Elladan replied. "If I may accompany you on your stroll?"  
  
Estel frowned. Of course, here Elladan tried to be kind, but all he truly managed was to belittle Estel. Treat me like an equal, Estel wanted to shout, but he controlled his temper and shrugged. "If you like to," he replied. After all, who am I to tell you what to do in your own home?  
  
Much to his dismay, Estel's height had yet to exceed five feet. Most mortals at his age had considerably more height, and here he was amongst elves, not only clumsy but painfully short at four foot six and no longer a child at thirteen years. What could possibly be wrong that he could not grow another twelve inches? As the young man walked beside the elf in the gardens, his shortness became terribly apparent.  
  
"'Tis a beautiful day today," Elladan commented, to break the quiet, and indeed it was: the sky itself in its clearness displayed the truth of eternity, a calm wind rustled through immaculate-seeming greenery. Elladan, thought Estel, like his brother and his father and most of the Elves, is like the garden with all its roses and the like. I, then, am a forest, overlapping and bustling and in and out and in again, all crazily unarranged. All these flowers, they belong; Elladan, he belongs, but me? Where and to whom do I belong?  
  
"No one," Estel muttered.  
  
"What was that?" Elladan asked. "No one what?"  
  
"Oh, nothing, I was just thinking. . ." Now he realized what a mistake had been made. Among the eves, Estel was known for his quiet ways, perhaps singularly for this reason. "I should like to keep it to myself, if this follows with you."  
  
Elladan regarded him oddly, but allowed him his privacy. After all, the Eldar thought, he is of another kind. "If you do wish to share your thoughts--" Elladan began, but before he was very far into his speech, Estel interrupted, "You know, I do feel much better now. Perhaps I shall see if there is anything needs doing in the library! Good day to you, Elladan!"  
  
"I shall see you at supper, Estel; good day," Elladan replied, watching the boy not-quite-hurry along: unknown to Elladan, Estel's vision had not cleared, and his mind seemed fuzzy as well. Oh, well. Surely it would pass. The elf worried about the boy: what ailed him? In this Elladan referred not only to Estel's illness, but to his odd manner. Most unlike Estel!  
  
Within the library, Estel found Lords Glorfindel and Elrond. The moment he entered they stared at him, oppressing him to a state of silence, then at last Elrond asked, "Yes, Estel, what is it?"  
  
"Um. . .nothing, sir," Estel replied, "sorry to have bothered you and all." The term "sir" he easily accounted for: though more often than not Estel referred to Elrond as Ada, this being Father, some times more formal titles sprang from his tongue: he simply deemed them applicable. He began to withdraw from the room, but Elrond stopped him.  
  
"Here, Estel, I had not meant to be short with you; the moment was inopportune. What did you seek?" Elrond asked, not in an unkind manner, yet in a more-than-inviting tone: you will answer me, Estel.  
  
"Oh, I sought work, maybe putting books back where they belong, but it is clear that you are occupied," Estel replied, attempting another retreat. I know when I am not wanted!  
  
"Well," said Elrond, tactically maneuvering Estel into the room, "should you not be studying with Elladan?"  
  
Estel blushed. "Elladan. . .called an early halt to the lesson. Have you any work for me, Ada?" he added quickly, before Elrond might inquire as to why Elladan dismissed Estel in such an untimely manner.  
  
"Certainly Estel, here. . ." Occupied with a stack of books to re-place, Estel thanked Elrond and slipped his hands beneath the pile, expertly hefting the lot against his hip to leave one hand free. "It appears this conversation must be continued later, Glorfindel, my apologies," said Elrond, who thought it not appropriate that Estel heard the topic in question.  
  
"It is understood," Glorfindel replied. "Perhaps--" But he was cut off by a mighty crash, a sound as though a certain four-foot-six-inch boy carrying a number of books had fallen to the ground, and turning the elves found that this was indeed so. Estel, for no obvious reason, had fallen, and was making no move to rise again.  
  
*****  
  
To be continued. . .  
  
Author's note: Just to let everyone know, this chapter is written terribly. "Show, not tell" is the most important rule. Sometimes writing itself is more important than writing well. . . 


	2. Chapter Two

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any character and/or places thereof  
  
Author's note: This particular story will NOT involve Legolas; he will be in the sequel, though.  
  
****  
  
When Estel awoke moments later he was still on the library floor, but he leaned against someone and so was sitting rather than lying. Looking up, he saw that it was Elrond who supported him and immediately moved to sit on his own. "What happened?" he asked, gazing out from beneath a curtain of hair to meet the eyes of Glorfindel, crouched beside him.  
  
"We had hoped you could tell us," Elrond replied. "Are you all right, Estel?" He raised his hand to feel the mortal's forehead for a fever, but Estel moved away, knowing already that he had a fever but needing no one else to know. The boy was not without his pride.  
  
"I am fine," he replied, "certainly a breath of fresh air will restore me-- " With much trouble Estel climbed to his feet, finding himself uncomfortably weak. Many times he fell before at last standing, somewhat wobbly, on his own two feet.  
  
Elrond did not agree with the child's diagnosis. "I think you would be better to rest yourself, Estel. You have not been sleeping lately as much as you should." Estel turned in surprise to the elf. How had he known? Elrond chuckled. "Precious little comes to pass within my house that I know not of."  
  
Nodding, Estel said, hoping Elladan no longer traversed the flowered paths, "One way or the other, I am off to the gardens--" One step forward found Estel falling once more, too weak to stand, and landing hard. Glorfindel and Elrond exchanged a look, one of those looks adults seem to think cover all occasions and emotions: amusement, exhaustion, oh-isn't-that-sweet. It is a look much loathed by children; grown-ups, for their part, are largely unaware of it, the slight smirk, the raised eyebrows. . .perhaps this looks grows as the child in the womb. Every parent is a master of it.  
  
"Let's get you to bed, Estel," Elrond said, reaching out to help the boy to his feet once more. "Glorfindel, if this matter could be concluded later?" Elrond asked, and his friend nodded.  
  
"It will wait, but not for long," replied Glorfindel ominously, before retreating out of the room.  
  
"I am not seriously ill," Estel protested.  
  
"Yes, I think this also. You are simply exhausted from never sleeping and malnourished from never eating--and yes, I also know that your frequent habits of 'oversleeping' and 'getting to bed early' during breakfast and supper are indeed untruths." Elrond knew not why he was speaking this of a sudden, on the whole he had been seeking an opportunity to discuss this with the boy but none seemed to arise, especially since Estel made himself scare as often as possible.  
  
Estel allowed Elrond to help him stand, and to help him steady himself from falling over with every step he took, though embarrassed he thought it better to have a bruised ego from being aided than a bruised bottom from falling over at every turn and jog. "Do you want to tell me what it is you do on those sleepless nights, Estel?"  
  
"No," replied Estel honestly, "it is not important."  
  
"Then I shall be forced to order you to tell me," Elrond replied.  
  
With a grin, Estel said, "Usually I sit in the gardens and watch the flowers and trees sway in night-breezes." His lie bothered him somewhat: this elf had taken him in when he had no place to go, cared for him throughout his childhood fears and illnesses, and looked after him in all the various ways he needed looking after. But now Estel did not need looking after, as he saw it at least, and did not want anyone poking about in his personal life. Of more import, he did not wish Elrond to know of his weaknesses and troubles.  
  
But perhaps Elrond asked a question to which he already knew the answer, for he did not reply to Estel's story. Instead he helped the boy along the corridor in silence, reached his bedchamber and allowed Estel to carry himself unsteadily over to the bed. The idea of sleep did appeal to the boy, in such overpowering strength that he had but stripped off his boots before he slipped beneath the covers.  
  
"You will sleep, Estel?" Elrond asked. "If you cannot individually there are some herbs that will help you."  
  
Estel closed his eyes. "It may be waking that proves a problem," he muttered, "not sleeping." The warmth of his blanket sapped his strength and induced a sleepy stupor, or perhaps Elrond was correct and the sleepless nights had begun to catch up to the boy. One way or the other, the effect was identical. Already Estel was drifting away to his dreams.  
  
Watching from the doorway, Elrond smiled softly. Sometimes the boy could be difficult, and often Elrond suspected that Estel was intentional trying, but underneath all of this he was nevertheless an innocent, lovely boy with a strong spirit and a good heart. Buried not so very deep inside of him, Estel was not a man but a child, and for this reason Elrond found it difficult to be angry with the boy: he was a good boy and did not need discipline, only love.  
  
As Estel squirmed in his sleep, Elrond left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. A good boy, just a little confused.  
  
"Elrond." The elven lord was startled to find Glorfindel standing behind him. "What are we going to do about the Mirkwood situation? Thranduil's last letter sounded not at all friendly."  
  
"When Imladris has an army to send the King of Mirkwood, we will send it! This is a safehaven, not a military force!" Elrond snapped. Thranduil and Elrond never quite saw eyes to eye where politics were concerned. If only these confounded letters would stop arriving! "Forgive me, my friend, yours is not the fault here. Come; we will find a solution to this, the both of us together."  
  
*****  
  
To be continued  
  
Deana: Legolas actually will not be in this story, however he will be featured in the story after it.  
  
Kathira: He's supposed to have hit his growth spurts late. It's not unheard of: some boys I know have been quite short, then of a sudden sprouted another two feet practically overnight! Later on, Estel will find himself growing like bamboo. As for taking this beyond Estel and illness, not much, mostly I tend to write about relationships, giving any drama to the background for emotion and interaction.  
  
Author's note: Finals week starts tomorrow. . .yipes! I'm not supposed to be writing fanfiction with finals so close, so if I don't update for about a week that'll be why. Sorry! School has to come first. 


	3. Chapter Three

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any recognizable characters and/or places thereof  
  
*****  
  
Estel was absent from breakfast the following morning. The later afternoon had been uneventful for the boy, who lay in a sleep disturbed by shadows and flashes of dream, and he remained in repose throughout the night.  
  
Elrond looked to Elladan, then to his twin brother Elrohir, then glanced at Estel's empty chair. Sighing, the elven lord rested his head in his hands. What was he to do? Why did Estel do these things? Was he angry? What did he want? Elrond shoved his chair away from the table.  
  
"My lord, with all respects, perhaps--" Glorfindel began, but Elrond shook his head.  
  
"Perhaps nothing. If the boy would eat and sleep regularly he would not be ill now, if indeed it is illness, which I suspect that it is not, and in my house I will not tolerate such disrespect. Estel is not a child, as he so often insists, and it is time he stopped acting like one!" Thusly declared Elrond in an unusual fit of temper, and strode from the room.  
  
The twins watched him go in awe. "We have never seen him so angry, Glorfindel," said Elladan, "and we were not obedient children."  
  
Glorfindel nodded to acknowledge this. "He is not angry with Estel, but with someone he has no access to and, even if he did, would be unable to vent his anger upon." Lowering his voice, Glorfindel motioned for the twins to lean in to keep their conversation secret. Interested, they did. "The Mirkwood situation has not sorted itself out as he had hoped, and now Thranduil has turned to another for aid. Your father--"  
  
"Thranduil asked an army, Glorfindel, you know we have no such resource!"  
  
"Yes, I do know," Glorfindel replied, "but Thranduil is not quite so reasonable. His forest is in danger, the numbers of spiders and all manner of ill beast grow day by day. His people cannot keep these evils at bay. Your father negotiated a treaty with Mirkwood but does not--can not--send aid now. Thranduil is angry. Your father is under much pressure to relieve the situation, for Thranduil is a strong enemy."  
  
Now the younger lords nodded, for they knew much of this, save, having ridden in to Imladris only two days earlier, the most recent events: Thranduil's new alliance, and, by the sound of things, something of a threat.  
  
In the corridor, Elrond calmed himself. 'I must stop behaving in this manner,' he scolded himself. 'It does not befit an elf of my station, and is simply unacceptable. How may I teach my sons control when I myself fail to exhibit it?' Taking deep breaths, he continued to Estel's bedchamber. Controlled, but not lax in his control of others.  
  
If Estel wished to be treated as an adult, as he so often claimed he did, then he would have to take some responsibility for himself. Though Elrond could not say why Estel neglected to attend meals and other general gatherings unless forced, he could say exactly how inappropriate this was. Politics, as he knew, consisted not of armies and militias, but of relationships: two or more people working through a problem together. Estel must learn this skill.  
  
These factors and many others played in Elrond's mind, and when at last he halted before Estel's bedchamber door he took a moment to composed himself before knocking. "Estel?" No answer came. A bit louder, "Estel?" And finally, quite insistent, "Estel!"  
  
Angrily Elrond threw open the door, but the sight that greeted him changed his temper at once.  
  
Estel slept, but without the peace of a child's sleep. He lay flat on his back but moved about, thrashing only slightly and turning his head to and fro, whimpering. Beads of sweat glistened on his face and hands, the rest of his skin covered. He was pale, as though ill, and his eyes clenched tightly shut.  
  
". . .no. . ." Estel spoke from a dream. "No! No, don't. . .you cannot! Please, you cannot, no!" His breathing was rapid, and as he spoke his movements became more ferocious, until, fearing the boy might harm himself, the trance which had overcome Elrond at the sight of the child broke and he rushed to the boy's side.  
  
"Estel? Estel, wake up, this is a dream!"  
  
"No! No, it's not--you can't--" Estel continued to cry, only half intelligible, and to move about. Elrond grasped the boy by the shoulders, preventing movement, and shook him. Estel continued to thrash and cried louder, frantic.  
  
"Estel, awaken, child!" Elrond ordered, though his order went unobserved and Estel lashed out, freeing himself from the elf's grip. Looking about, Elrond spotted a glass of water on the table beside the bed. Without a second thought he doused Estel, who at once silenced. The mortal's eyes snapped open, and for a moment he remained on his back, breathing so heavily his chest and shoulders heaved, then with a whimper he sat bolt upright and held onto Elrond as though in fear.  
  
Shocked, Elrond surrendered to instinct and moved his arms to cradle Estel. "Shh, child, hush," Elrond soothed the now sobbing child. "It was naught but a dream and now it is gone, shh, it's all right."  
  
After many seconds of quietly crying , allowing himself to be rocked and soothed as though a small child, Estel responded, "It was not only a dream." Attracted by the noise of Estel's cries, Elladan, Elrohir an Glorfindel had now gathered in the doorway, but none ventured to intervene. Elrond held Estel firmly by the shoulders and asked him, "What do you mean by that?"  
  
Suddenly very self-conscious, Estel wiped away his tears and sniffed, wishing his nose had not run so as he cried. "It truly happened, sir," he replied. "I remember from when I was small, and it did happen."  
  
Elrond looked into the boy's eyes. Not only did these display fear, they darted about in disquietude and worried, but to the healer they displayed something besides this. He moved to feel Estel's forehead, but the boy's frantic movements prevented this. "Hold still a moment, child," Elrond ordered, and Estel did. Then the healer felt the boy's forehead, and he nodded grimly.  
  
Elrond rose and made ready to leave the room. "Lie down, Estel. You had best take some rest--"  
  
"No!" Estel leapt from the bed, but Elrond would have none of it.  
  
"Little one, I am sorry for not seeing this sooner. Forgive me. You are very sick. The blood within you burns with fever. For the time nothing may be done, but you must rest." Elrond turned to leave.  
  
Estel shivered with fear but nodded. He was unready to swallow his pride and admit to the lasting terror, too ashamed of his tears to move for help. Luckily Elrond knew the ways of children and motioned to his eldest son. "Elladan, please stay with Estel. I shan't be gone long. If he does sleep, you must stay nevertheless, you understand?"  
  
Elladan nodded. "Yes, Adar. I will be here."  
  
Elrond smiled. "Thank you, Elladan. Elrohir, I must ask that you come with me. There is much to be done. Estel, rest! Elladan will look after you. You are not to leave your bed, and I shall be very angry with you if I hear that you have done so." The anger would not be the sort Estel thought of, however, but pure worry. The danger of this fever, though Elrond spoke it not aloud, not before the boy, was great.  
  
Elrohir, Elrond and Glorfindel also left the room, Elladan entering in their wake. Elrond kept his head bowed. How could I have thought such awful things of him? As it was Elrond hated leaving the boy, but Elladan would look after him, and the sleeping draught he hoped to concoct for Estel, one of a deep and dreamless sleep, would need precision, and Elrond trusted no one, not even his own son, to accurately brew the antidote.  
  
"Elrohir, do not feel I am favoring Elladan over you," Elrond said, noting his son's unhappy look. "Both of you would have been too much, I fear."  
  
"In this case the situation must be dire indeed," commented Elrohir, and Elrond nodded.  
  
"The fever will climb, the dreams are not likely to stop. If the sickness reaches his brain. . .then we may only hope. He may die, and if he does not he will not be our Estel."  
  
"You can do nothing to slow this, to stop it?" Glorfindel asked. Unlike Elrohir, Glorfindel had no healing training. He knew little of the art, if he knew anything of it at all, and had yet to encounter an illness or injury his friend could not mend.  
  
Elrond's reply was stoic, but his voice was unsteady. "Sometimes we must allow nature to run its course. I only aim to relieve Estel's suffering. There is nothing more for me to do, nothing more to be done for him."  
  
Solemn was the party which now carried on, and quiet. Death hung over their heads, and as immortals this frightened them much. They had known Estel would die, but none had prepared for his life to be taken so early and with such pain and force.  
  
*****  
  
To be continued  
  
Author's note: As so many authors before me, I have decided to use the storyline in which Gilraen is felled with Arathorn, and thus she will not be in this story.  
  
Grumpy: So I've been told and seen for my own eyes. Estel is a bit behind in his development in this story; the eating and sleeping is tied to growth spurts, if I remember correctly, and Estel has yet to hit growth spurts. It does happen late to some boys.  
  
Silver Knight 7: It's too bad you feel that way about school. Personally I enjoy it, learning is one joy none may take from me, but finals are awful. So. . .difficult. . .! 


	4. Chapter Four

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places thereof  
  
*****  
  
"I am not ill, there is no need for this," Estel informed Elladan as soon as Elrond was out of earshot. Elladan took one look at the pale boy, his face sweat soaked, his breath evenly uneven, as though each puff of air caught in his throat. The elf crossed to Estel' writing desk, an ink- splotched unit, and carried the chair positioned there across the room. Estel looked spitefully at Elladan, sitting nonchalantly beside his bed.  
  
Estel debated scowling at Elladan, but decided against it. Elrond's orders were not Elladan's, the younger had naught to do with Estel's imprisonment. This indeed was Estel's view of his confinement to his bed: imprisonment.  
  
Quietly, he began to play a game with himself. "Imladris. . .Sirion. . .Numenor. . .Rohan. . ."  
  
"Estel?" Elladan asked. "What's that? What are you saying?"  
  
Estel blushed. "It is. . .just a game," he replied. "It is a geography game and so relevant to my studies," he quickly defended his fun.  
  
"May I play?" Elladan only half had an interest in the game, more was his interest in Estel. The boy acted politely enough and docile when he remembered to, but Elladan did not feel like. . .well, like his brother. When his father fostered the child, Elladan supposed Estel had become a part of his family: a brother. But Elladan and Elrohir often absented themselves from Imladris, their need for vengeance for their mother strong in their hearts, and Estel had grown so quickly! He treated them kindly but as removed, and this hurt Elladan, for he did feel some love for the boy. Estel was not comfortable around the twins because he did not know them, however he viewed them as his brothers: this Elladan believed.  
  
"Of course." Estel did not want Elladan to play. The elf was always trying to get to know Estel: didn't he realize? Someday, Estel thought, I will die. I am not his kin. Why will he not leave me be? "The game works this way: I name a place, then you name a place that begins with the last letter of my place, then I a place beginning with the last letter of yours. Do you understand?"  
  
"I believe so. You paused on Rohan? May I say the Nimrodel River?"  
  
Estel shrugged. "I suppose. Lothlorien," he replied, giving Elladan yet another "n" to work off of. Sorely did the boy wish to end this game. Elladan hardly seemed to be enjoying: why did he not quit? At last, Estel ended his pain. "I am going to try to sleep now. . .I am not feeling well, after all, it seems," Estel excused himself. It was true: his eyelids were getting heavy.  
  
Expecting to lie awake in his bed and face the wall, Estel was surprised when he found himself whisked away from consciousness the moment his head hit the pillow.  
  
While the sick child slept, Elladan watched him. In his sleep, he appeared so innocent, so young. . .Estel's hair splayed about him, giving his face an even paler look by contrast. Roses bloomed on his cheeks as though he felt the eyes upon him. Elladan smiled in spite of circumstance, feeling he might sit happily here for hours, why the past half hour had seemed only seconds--  
  
He had his happiness interrupted as Estel began to whimper. Estel squirmed, stretching his muscles as if waking, but he did not. He gasped as his body slammed straight as an arrow, then thrashed about as though at demons.  
  
All this took seconds, and as Elladan moved to hold his brother still Estel went limp, then shook his head from side to side. "You poor child," Elladan muttered, stroking the boy's cheek gently. Estel shivered as though burned, then he began to speak, his words directed at those in his mind, yet these existed without.  
  
In Estel's dream, it was midwinter. Estel, six years old, was amazed by the brightly coloured decorations hung about, proud of the parchment snowflakes he had made. He stayed in a corner, excited but too cowed by awe. Everyone was so big. . .  
  
"Estel, come with us!" Elrohir coaxed, appearing suddenly from the crowd. "Come and sing with us, Estel!" Elrohir and Elladan had been helping Estel learn a midwinter song for weeks; now came their proud time of performance.  
  
"No," Estel said. "I don't want to sing, Elrohir, I am afraid."  
  
But Elrohir, not hearing his brother, who indeed had spoken only in his mind that fear kept him silent, continued, "Are you ready to sing? Everyone wants to hear you, Estel."  
  
"No! I do not want to be heard! Everyone is just here to judge. . .I cannot sing so prettily as you and Elladan, don't make me, Elrohir, please!" Again fear froze his jaw. Estel held up his arms to Elrohir, and Elrohir lifted the little boy into his arms. For a moment the boy believed himself spared, believed that Elrohir had heard his silent pleas, and snuggled against Elrohir, feeling safe.  
  
"There, Estel, it's not so bad, you see? Come on now, everyone is eager for your song."  
  
Estel was too distraught to fight, too frightened to cry, too humiliated to run. All the while, as his voice formed too familiar words, Estel had a strange feeling, as though his soul were lifting from his body, flying. . .freeing. . .  
  
Thirteen-year-old Estel associated this feeling with death, but not a death by fever, not the death threatening him at the moment he relieved his humiliation. "Don't you understand? Don't you know I am not good enough? Why must you display my inadequacies?"  
  
Elladan held the boy in his arms, watching helplessly as tears streamed down the boy's face, tears he had not cried with his song, tears of sorrow and of freedom. Gently the elf stroked the mortal's face and hair, trying to give him the appearance of health. He had never known how upset Estel was about the song, he'd sung well enough. Surely he did not truly feel himself inadequate?  
  
"Wake, Estel, awake," Elladan beseeched the boy, knowing it would not come to be. Estel remained limp and tearful, burning hot in the elf's arms. Elladan bit his lip, torn. He had been ordered to stay, but surely Adar must know that Estel would not wake. . .  
  
"Eh. . ." Estel began to cough, and Elladan breathed freely. "Why are you holding me like that, Elladan?" Estel asked.  
  
At once the elf released the boy. "You were dreaming, having a nightmare. Or. . .a memory."  
  
Estel blushed. "Did I. . .did I speak at all?"  
  
Elladan nodded. "You sang the song from the winter solstice, and said a few things besides."  
  
"Song?" The memory had been selectively removed from the young boy's mind: he dreamed it but in waking did not recall it.  
  
Swallowing, Elladan thought to recall the words, and this he sang:  
  
~When skies are grey and the sun is not here  
  
I look inside myself and I find my fears  
  
Trapped in the forest, frozen with cold  
  
I tread once more on these paths of old  
  
My home is calling; I cannot hear  
  
But step by step I come more near  
  
Near to the hearthside, a fire's roaring warm  
  
And the love of family keeps my soul from harm  
  
We'll sit together like we did before  
  
We'll tell the stories to make our spirits soar  
  
My heart will wander, my heart will fly  
  
My heart won't hurt with you standing by  
  
In winter coldness, when the warmth has fled,  
  
I take the love of myself and give it you instead  
  
Inside we're warming with our love and fire  
  
Inside we're safe from a gathering mire~  
  
As the elf sang, his voice perfecting crescendos and the high and low notes, Estel fought tears. The tale of the story struck his heart too closely. Then all at cone his voice changed, and Elladan sang another song, a second verse yet so different. . .  
  
~Once in the winter, in a gathering storm  
  
A wondering child looked upon the form  
  
Of his home so covered in a snowy hiding coat  
  
Not a single thing looked of similar note  
  
And, "Father," he said, "has the world gone away?"  
  
"No, child: for home is where the heart is, and here that place shall stay."~  
  
The song cost Elladan dearly, for he had not wished to sing it but had done so for the child's sake, because Estel had asked, the song of winter. . .There were more pleasant songs. Why had he not lied and recited one of those? Of course, because Estel would have known the difference. . .but to hurt him so. . .  
  
"I think I should go to sleep once again," Estel said. Dreams hurt more than he could say, but to be awake, to explain to Elladan the terrible dream, this he could not endure.  
  
"Wait! Estel, if you will give me your word that you will remain here, in your bed, I will ask for a draught, something to help you sleep but not to dream," Elladan offered. Estel thought it over, and at last agreed. He would do anything for a decent rest, exhaustion was too much for the fever- weak boy. "Fare well, child; I shall shortly return."  
  
Elladan kissed the boy's brow almost before he realized what he was doing, then strode from the room, in the corridor breaking into a run, needing to escape the terrible realization, the knowledge of the suffering and scarring he had caused such an innocent child. He reached the Hall of Healing in a sweat. Elrohir and Elrond looked strangely at him. "Why have you left Estel alone?" Elrond asked. "I told you to stay by him!" He did not raise his voice but Elladan felt guilty nevertheless.  
  
"Adar, he slept and he dreamed a terrible thing. Is there no draught you may give him to ease his suffering?"  
  
Elrond understood and he said, sadness tingeing his voice, "I cannot. It is best you know now Estel's risk. The illness will rise. Estel will fall into a sleep from which he will not awaken and he will dream such terrors. After he has fallen to the fever such that his brow burns to the touch and he cannot wake, after two days either. . ."  
  
"Either what?" Elladan prompted his father, worried. "What will happen to Estel after two days?"  
  
Elrond closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "His fever will break or he will die," replied the elven lord. "And even should the fever break, the child remaining will not be our Estel. Elladan, Estel will not be himself, if he is at all alive a week from now."  
  
"Then why give him no draught?" Elladan asked, electing not to dwell on the villainy at hand.  
  
"Because that would induce the fever-sleep. The best thing, for the time being, is to keep Estel as comfortable as possible. Do not let him know of his danger. There is a syrup that may indeed help him."  
  
Elrohir, who until now had not spoken, went to his brother. "It is not so awful. There is a chance." He gripped his twin's hand tightly. "Let us see to the child now. Come, do not fear. Be strong for him."  
  
Gratefully Elladan smiled at his brother and the two began to return to Estel's room. Something wriggled in Elladan's mind, itching, until at last he asked, "You remember, Elrohir, how we deemed to divide our time?"  
  
"Evenly," Elrohir replied, "between Arwen, Adar and Nana."  
  
"Yes. But Elrohir, we never counted on Estel. We never considered him. I think. . ." his voice came with difficulty as Elladan spoke against an agreement made in solemnity beneath the moonlight many years ago. "I think he needs us more than Nana needs us, and more than Arwen needs us."  
  
Elrohir swung around and stared at his brother in awe. Was Elladan truly suggesting. . .? "We should talk about this at another time, when so much is not happening all at once."  
  
Elladan nodded, and they continued on in silence. The elder twin quivered once and he bit back tears. Here Elladan saw that one brother lay dying and the other so angry he would not face the elf, let alone speak to him. Perhaps, after all, Estel had the luck.  
  
Elladan shook his head. No. He did want to go on. He was half through a mental slap when he was startled by a cry from nearby. Certainly Estel was not dreaming again already?  
  
****  
  
To be continued  
  
Author's note: Estel will be living mostly through dreams for a time, maybe three more chapters, then he'll play more of a role.  
  
Thanks to everyone who reviewed, your encouragement was great. There is no better reward for a storyteller than the appreciation of a story. 


	5. Chapter Five

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places thereof  
  
*****  
  
The brothers arrived in the doorway at the same time and were treated to a most disturbing of sights. Estel stood, if it could be called by such a placid word, flinging himself about as though fighting off an invisible horde of foes. "Stop it!" he cried, his voice sob-choked. "Stop hurting me, I cannot help what I am! Stop it! Don't hurt me!"  
  
"Estel?" Elladan and Elrohir bolted into the room, then paused, considering: would it be helpful of them to grab the boy and keep him from harming himself, or ought they allow him to tire himself out. With one particularly pain-wracked cry Estel fell to the ground as though stricken and curled up into a protective ball. He shuddered, as though smacked.  
  
The twins knelt beside their young charge, one on either side, and without speaking consented to move him to the bed. They took him, one holding either of his arms, and carried Estel across the room. All the while the child's eyes remained wide and not at all sleeping but awake.  
  
"What is happening to him, Elrohir?" asked Elladan, trusting his brother to know more of Estel's affliction.  
  
"He is having hallucinations," Elrohir answered.  
  
Elladan took Estel from Elrohir. The younger twin pulled back the coverlet that Elladan might maneuver Estel beneath it. "But how can this be? His dreams are memories, but no one has ever beaten Estel!"  
  
Elrohir shrugged. "There is no accounting for it. We cannot wake him now, for he does not sleep, but at the least he no longer fights us."  
  
As though the words themselves performed some healing spell Estel blinked and shook his head, then began to breathe heavily through fear. Hyperventilation seemed only moments away when Elladan spoke calmingly, "Shh, Estel, it is all right, you were only dreaming." Elladan caressed Estel's face to calm him, worried by the heat emanating from the boy's skin. "Elrohir, he burns with fever, will you go and tell Ada?" Elladan said, so quietly that Estel did not hear.  
  
Elrohir nodded. "Look after him, Elladan," he added in the same low tone, then bustled from the room in a hurried yet dignified manner.  
  
"Elladan, they were hurting me," Estel whimpered.  
  
"Estel, come here," Elladan said, and Estel fell gratefully into his embrace. Though Estel knew, a false positive, that there was no love in the hug, in the elf's strong arms he felt protected. "No one is going to hurt you, you understand? If anyone tries, they would lose a finger."  
  
Estel was not to be consoled so easily: "But they were hitting me, Elladan, they were hurting me just because I. . ." His voice trailed away as he realized what he was saying.  
  
But the elf would not play this game. "Why were they hurting you, Estel?" Elladan asked, holding Estel away to look into his eyes. "Were they being unkind to you because you are not an elf?" Such incidences had occurred before, with what Elladan found to be tragic consequences.  
  
"No, because I was an elf!" Estel responded, severely confusing Elladan, then covered his eyes and cried out. At first Elladan thought him to be having hallucinations again, but Estel told him not; "It hurts, Elladan! My head is pounding inside like somebody wanting to get out!"  
  
Then Elladan knew that Estel was experiencing a headache, and he could do absolutely nothing. Against his wishes, tears snaked from Estel's closed eyes, dribbling along his burning cheeks like ice. When Elrohir returned, he found the two in silence, Elladan still holding Estel, Estel still pretending the tears did not fall.  
  
"Estel?" Elrohir climbed onto the bed opposite Elladan. "I have just spoken to Ada, Estel."  
  
"Is there any medicine?" Estel asked hopefully.  
  
"No, dear, not yet. There will be soon. You just have to hold on a little longer, all right? You are so brave. Just keep being brave."  
  
Estel moaned. "It hurts too much. I just want to sleep. . ."  
  
The twins shared a glance. They knew that if Estel slept now, he would not awaken. "Why don't we play a game?" Elladan suggested. "Estel, would you like that?"  
  
Thirteen and not stupid, Estel consented, "Yes." He wished to sleep, not to play mindless games with this elf, but if Elladan would not be pleased otherwise then perhaps the quickest and least painful route would be bending to his will. "Shall we play 'yes and no'?"  
  
Quite happy with the answer, Elrohir replied, "Yes, that is a great game. Will you go first, Estel?"  
  
"All right. . ." He decided upon the first item to come to mind, then nodded to the others to begin asking.  
  
"Is it living?"  
  
"Not at all."  
  
"Is it dead?"  
  
Elrohir chucked his brother on the shoulder for that, but Estel answered, "Yes." The twin exchanged unhappy glances.  
  
"Does it serve any sort of function?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Is it something you own?"  
  
Estel answered, though he truly believed that he owned nothing, "Indeed." The twins referred to "Estel's room" and "Estel's tunic" and the like, and to avoid argument Estel replied in the positive.  
  
"Is it used for your studies?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Is it worn?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Your boots?"  
  
"Close."  
  
"Your. . ." The twins were off on a wild goose chase, guessing all sorts of incorrect objects. Estel answered their questions lightly, thinking nothing of it. Elladan and Elrohir had been successfully thrown off course that they would never guess the true answer; Estel's left boot. The mortal continued to mutter answers but knew not the questions. He closed his eyes and felt a great sea of calm washing over him. In the inky blackness the throbbing in his head subsided. . .Estel slipped away and knew he would never return. . .  
  
"Estel? Estel! Estel, wake up! Estel!"  
  
Despite the calls and pleas of Elladan and Elrohir, Estel remained in sleep. Elladan shook him bur he would not wake; they held Estel just out of the window and tipped the pitcher of water, refilled by someone at some point which they had not noticed, over Estel's face. He slept on.  
  
"What shall we do?" Elrohir asked.  
  
Elladan set Estel on the floor. "Find something to dry him off with."  
  
Elrohir grabbed a tunic and began drying Estel's face and hair with it. A towel might better have served, but time was not in abundance at the moment. When Estel's hair was only damp, Elladan lifted him once more. "He is so small, Elrohir. Why is he so light?"  
  
"He is ill," Elrohir replied, not knowing quite why he said this. Together the boys wrapped the quilt from Estel's bed around the boy, hoping to him warmer to break his fever. "Let us bring him to the Hall of Healing, there Ada can care for him. There is naught else to be done."  
  
There was silence to begin their trek, Elladan holding the bundled boy in his arms, and silence to complete it. When the boys entered the Hall of Healing they could not bear to approach their father with the news of Estel's sudden turn for the worse. They simply waited until they were noticed, passed over the boy, and having neither part to play in the mixing of draughts nor use to put themselves to they retired to an unused corner and stood together, feeling indeed very lost.  
  
*****  
  
To be continued  
  
Sorry for the short chapter; I had writers' block and forced myself to simply WRITE! So here it is, and another on the way soon enough. 


	6. Chapter Six

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places thereof  
  
*****  
  
"Elladan? Elrohir?" The twins looked up and into the sympathetic eyes of their friend. "Why don't we go and spar for a while. You should take your mind off of. . .all of this." Glorfindel did not wish to state the possibility of Estel's demise.  
  
For a moment both were silent, then Elladan spoke. "We should be here in case--for when Estel wakes up. We need to be here if he starts dreaming again." They had not left the Hall of Healing for the past two or three hours, but sat now in the same corner they had chosen earlier, holding each other's hands and resting their foreheads together, stealing and offering their strength. One could not have said where one ended and the other began until they separated.  
  
"You should go," Elrond said. "I will be here for Estel."  
  
Elladan felt too protective of his brother to abandon him. "You don't understand," he said, panicky, "he has these dreams, he thinks he is an Elf. . .he says someone is hurting him."  
  
Elrond looked into his son's eyes and, for the first time in hundreds of years, saw a scared child. "I will look after him, Elladan. Do not waste away over this. There is nothing more for you to do here. Go on. It cannot hurt."  
  
The elder twin bit his lip and looked away. Slowly he nodded his obedience. "Come on, El," Elladan said to his brother.  
  
"Well. . .no," Elrohir answered. He stood beside his brother, before his father, and he said: "Estel. . .filled a place in your heart. He fills this place for us, also. We do not always acknowledge that or treat with as much love as we harbor in our hearts for the boy, but. . .he is our brother, Ada. Just the same as he is your son."  
  
The Halfelven was not new to Healing Halls. He knew the look in Elrohir's eyes. Elrond rested one hand on Elrohir's shoulder and the other on Elladan's. "And your brother is strong. Trust him. Trust me. None of my sons will die this day--not of fever, not of heartbreak. That is not his fate. Go with Glorfindel. He is right, it will do you well not to think of your brother for this while."  
  
Nodding and feeling much better, strengthened by their father's belief, the twins headed out. "Oh, and boys?" Elrond called. "Glorfindel know what he is doing. Slaughter him." They smiled and even dared chuckle as they left, promising to do just that.  
  
Alone, the Lord of Imladris slumped into one of the chairs deserted by his sons and buried his face in his hands. He did not cry, but his shoulders shook with dry sobs as he thought of his foster child lying helpless and dying, and the night his wife had come to him in such similar condition, and his daughter residing with her mother's kin. "Oh, Celebrían, how I wish I had you with me here."  
  
Estel was dreaming. In the dream he was thirteen years old, and he did not know what he fought for, but every day he strove to achieve perfection in his every move. Be it posture, riding horses or swordplay, Estel wanted no more than to be the best. Did he fight against Elladan and Elrohir? Against Elonrd? He could not say.  
  
That does not mean he did not know. Deep down, in a part of him which Estel refused to acknowledge, he knew that he fought against himself. All he wanted was to be better than himself, to jump of these mortal bindings and prove himself equal.  
  
And those five words completely destroyed him. It was a perfect match, and Estel won it, he defeated Glorfindel. Admittedly, the Elf had gone easy on him, but nevertheless, he won! And when he did, Estel wanted nothing more than to bathe his aching muscles and smile for himself, but Elrond was there.  
  
"Oh, don't," Estel pleaded, or wished to at any rate. "Please, do not try to be my father. I recall him, I recall the Man, and you are not him. You do not care for me, do not pretend. I need no father, I am grown."  
  
"Estel? You are growing quit skilled with a blade," Elrond said. Well, that had been relatively painless: now Estel needed only skiv off to his bath now and the day would be only a chip away from perfection. Then he said it: "I'm so proud of you."  
  
"Don't be proud of me! Stop loving me. Do you not see it? Do you not realize I will die? I am not your son! I am a bastard child!" For Estel believed himself to be this. "Why do you create these obligations we hold for one another? Don't hurt yourself. Don't be stupid. Don't love me! Do not love me, whatever you do."  
  
In the Hall of Healing, in the valley Imladris, Elrond sat beside Estel and held his hand. The boy had yet to speak. Then it happened, the event Elladan had warned him off: "Please, do not try to be my father. I recall him, I recall the Man, and you are not him. You do not care for me, do not pretend. I need no father, I am grown."  
  
"Estel?" Elrond asked hopefully, and looked to the boy's eyes, then chided himself. That hope had been silly, none recovered this sleep without a draught, one which currently was setting not seven yards away. Within the day, the draught would set, then Estel might drink it. Still hours would be required for the draught to take effect.  
  
"Don't be proud of me! Stop loving me. Do you not see it? Do you not realize I will die? I am not your son! I am a bastard child! Why do you create these obligations we hold for one another? Don't hurt yourself. Don't be stupid. Don't love me! Do not love me, whatever you do."  
  
"Estel?" Elrond felt his eyes brim with tears and swiped away the droplets. Estel could not hear him. He was being thick to think he might speak and be understood. "Estel. . .you cannot stop me loving you."  
  
For a moment the boy was silent, then in a moment became almost violent. He shouted and thrashed on the table top, his makeshift bed. "Stop it!" he cried. "Why do you do this? I cannot help that I am elf-kind! Please!" After this ragged begging he continued to shout but without words, screaming as though for great pain. At last he was silent, and curled into the fetal position and rocked.  
  
"Estel?" Elrond could hardly speak. The ordeal he had just been through was great: sitting and watching as this boy, whom he loved as a son, first denied that they loved each other at all, then recollected some torture for being Elf-kind. . .in Elrond's mind, two had become as one. Estel relived the pain of Lady Celebrían; what other explanation could be given?  
  
In moments the door to the Hall of Healing banged open and a pair of elventwins tumbled in. When they saw their father sitting beside Estel's body, holding his hand desperately, they stopped. This was how Ada looked when. . .that night. . .  
  
"He looked the same when we brought Mama home," Elladan whispered. "When we thought she was lost."  
  
"But Mama lived on," Elrohir replied. "This is a sign, Elladan."  
  
Elladan looked to his brother. "No, it is not. This is Ada losing hope. Losing Hope!" He shouted, and then turned on his heel and ran from the room. Elrohir looked from the boy on the tabletop to the door, swinging shut. He realized something then: he could d nothing for Estel. The decision was not between Estel and Elladan, but Elladan and Elrond.  
  
And a second element decided Elrohir; this was truth. "Adar," Elrohir said, "if you believe he will die, Estel will not live another day. What ever happened to trusting you?"  
  
*****  
  
To be continued  
  
Grumpy: He doesn't care about cheating; for Estel, the game was a matter of mollifying Elladan and Elrohir. But yes, you are right, it was cheating.  
  
Lomiothiel: The nightmares are his memories, the hallucinations will be explained in the sequel. Both are brought on by his illness but are based in reality--his reality, that is. 


	7. Chapter Seven

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places thereof. I'm just "borrowing" them and will return them in. . .good enough condition.  
  
Author's note: All right, we are entering the last two or three chapters here! Stick around for the sequel if you liked this, though.  
  
*****  
  
"Elrohir--"  
  
"I have to go now," he said numbly. "My brother needs me. I can still help him." He turned to leave then, Elrond speechless and, had he had anything to say, Elrohir would not have heard it. The words that stopped him came not from Elrond but from Estel.  
  
He could not have chosen a more opportune moment. Mumbling, Estel spoke from within a dream. In the dream, Elladan and Elrohir had only just arrived home from yet another journey hunting orcs, as they spent more than half their lives doing. What Estel did not know was that most of that time was spent in Lothlorien--"Hunting orcs" was their code for visiting their sister.  
  
They knew not what Lady Galadriel had seen in her mirror, but she had warned them: this boy should not come to know her. It will end badly if he does. So Arwen remained in Lothlorien and the twins continued missing her in an aching silence, feeling as though their family was falling apart.  
  
In the dream, the memory that insisted upon returning, Estel had found a stinging nettle plant the most painful way. Not losing a moment's time, he ran through the valley, pumping his legs with all the strength he could muster. Reaching the high arching bridge for which Imladris was so known, he leapt to the water near the edge of the bank.  
  
Having over-estimated the distance, Estel waded to the bank then knelt. The squelching noise and the wetness on his knees betrayed that he should have done better to look before he leapt, or, in this case, before he knelt. Mud seeped into the threads of his clothing. Not having the time to care as his hand was stinging something awful, Estel scooped up a sopping handful of mud from the riverbed and held it against the heel of his hand and the bowl of his palm, where the nettles had taken ahold of him.  
  
"Ah," with a sigh Estel dipped his hand into the numbing cold water and let the water wash away the mud. As he straightened up two horses came clattering across the bridge, close enough that Estel jumped back. These horses bore Elladan and Elrohir into Imladris, as well Estel knew.  
  
"Time to play the good boy," he said to himself. The bridge now deserted, he might have climbed up onto it but it was awfully high up for someone of his height. Resignedly, he leapt onto the sloping riverbank. His left hand sank into dirt and he began to slip, but grasped a root with his right hand and hauled himself back to his feet.  
  
When Estel crept past Elrond's study, taking the fastest route to his own room, he heard Elladan say in answer to a question, "We saw our brother by the bridge." Estel did not stay to listen, though he knew he was being discussed, but continued on his way, muttering.  
  
"I am not your brother, Elladan. You have no reason to pretend as such. The formality is unnecessary. I know my being here drives you away and I am sorry. Believe me, if it were up to me I would leave. Shame only comes of the charity and pity I receive here; it would be much better were I permitted to simply leave and make my own way. I hardly like being such a burden!"  
  
Elrohir stared open-mouthed at Estel. How did he. . .what made him think. . .Half-formed thoughts swam through Elrohir's brain at an accelerated rate. Surely he had never considered Estel his brother, though Elladan did, but he did feel rather fond of the boy. He was always good for a conversation, had new and interesting thoughts, and when he did speak his mind he seemed bright and inquisitive. Although not his brother, Elrohir knew Estel was a special sort of boy.  
  
Elrond's gaze shifted between Estel and Elrohir. "You think you know what he recalls now?" Elrond asked.  
  
"No," Elrohir replied, his voice sad and low, "it may be any number of times. Adar, you must do something for him, anything you can. You have to try, all right? Even if you don't think he will live, it is not fair to let that stop you trying. You never thought Mother would make it, either, and you tried so hard to help her."  
  
The thought hit Elrohir and Elrond at the same time. The younger felt his eyes widen. "You don't love him," Elrohir said, accusation in his tone. "Every time you say to him 'I love you'--and you say it often enough--you are lying to him, Adar. You don't love him as a son. You have lied to all of us. So this is why he feels so inferior!"  
  
"It is more than that; perhaps you ought not call him brother when you are never here," Elrond replied. "We have all contributed to this. Perhaps we ought not be surprised Estel hates us."  
  
"He never said hate," Elrohir answered. "He said many things but never hate. Give us all another chance. Only you have that power." The hinges squeaked as the door opened. Elrohir and Elrond remained, staring at one another in shock and despair, until Glorfindel interrupted them.  
  
"Elrohir," Glorfindel said gently, "will you please see to your brother? He is very upset." Without a word Elrohir left. Elrond remained, hardly moving as he spoke.  
  
"Am I a bad father, Glorfindel?" Elrond asked, his eyes fixed on the boy lying near death before him.  
  
Glorfindel took a deep breath. "That is not my judgment to pass--"  
  
"Were it."  
  
"Were it, I would say that you do try and that you have raised three wonderful children. If you let that draught burn over the fire now, you will not be a failure as a father, but as a healer you may be called negligent. Spring to work, Healer. The sun sinks to her bed in the west, and there is much to be done ere you take rest."  
  
His words struck home and, with the help of his friend, Elrond took that draught that was his foster child's lone hope from above the fire and began the work of a potions-master, crushing and stirring. As he worked, motions he could have executed in his sleep, Elrond asked Glorfindel, "Do you think he will wake?"  
  
Glorfindel nodded. "I think he is a scrapper. Estel does not love his life but he would not willingly forgo it."  
  
Moments passed in only the noise of the crackle of fire. "You are too good to me, Glorfindel," Elrond said at last, thinking of his earlier insistence that his friend pass judgment on his quality. Such was not the nature of friendships.  
  
"No, I am not," Glorfindel answered. "Sometimes people need someone to lean on. Besides, you would have done the same for me, were our roles reversed, would you not?"  
  
"You have not children," Elrond answered.  
  
"Bah," Glorfindel answered, "you are dodging, oh Lord of Rivendell. Come, you need not answer, look not so forlorn! Everyone needs someone, Elrond. I have you and you have me just as Elladan knows he may rely on Elrohir and Elrohir upon Elladan in their own weaknesses. Some people--most people, I think--are not whole without another. Some will be fine with only one, others. . ."  
  
He closed his mouth, knowing dangerous grounding when he tread upon it. Realizing that Elrond knew his words already, Glorfindel continued, "I have done my best to help you fill that void in your heart, that place Lady Celebrían left, just until you see her again. Obviously I have not been enough, as is expected, but that boy. . ." As though fearing to be overheard, Glorfindel lowered his voice. "If you just opened your heart to him, Elrond, he would never fail you."  
  
"I think--" Elrond faltered, then went on, "when he cries out that he is an Elf, Glorfindel, I fear in my heart that he relives the torture of Celebrían at the hands of the orcs."  
  
Glorfindel considered this slowly. "Perhaps this is so. It may be he has a bond to her, something we cannot hope to comprehend. It certainly could explain a few things.  
  
"Look at him. He is so innocent, so scarred and lonely and frightened. He has been hurt. When he cries, he hides his face from the world in shame. Should such a youth think strength a necessity? Should he banish emotion? We know, the both of us, what comes of trying to be rid of feeling. He has no other half. He is not whole. But look how he fights for it, day after day. It is well for Men that he will lead them. They are lucky.  
  
"As are Elves. We have you."  
  
Glorfindel looked into his friend's eyes. Elrond could not answer; his throat stuck with feeling. "This is ready," he said, indicating the draught. "We should give it to him now."  
  
*****  
  
To be continued!  
  
For anyone who thinks it, no, Elrond and Glorfindel are NOT lovers, just very close friends, at least in this story. I've nothing against slash fiction, but this is not.  
  
Grumpy: His dreams are memories. As for thinking he is an Elf, perhaps Elrond is correct. Perhaps he is bonded in spirit to the Lady Celebrían. Only the author knows, and she isn't telling! Mwuhahahaha!  
  
Lomiothiel: They were sparring.  
  
Oh, and thanks to everyone who reviewed, I really appreciate it. 


	8. Chapter Eight

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places thereof  
  
*****  
  
"Elladan?" He had drawn the curtains over the window and kept a lone candle burning for light. As Elrohir entered the room they shared for sleeping he took cares not to disturb anything, but made his way over to Elladan's bed. Without a word Elrohir curled around the huddled figure of his brother. They stayed there for a long time, Elrohir resting his head in the space between Elladan's shoulders, Elladan shaking and crying heavy tears.  
  
When at last he found his voice, the sun's last rays were gleaming powerfully over the ridge of the valley's edge. "It was stupid of me, Elrohir. . .but I thought he would never give up. Even after Mama went away I thought that Adar had some magic by which he never, ever failed to believe in. . .I do not know what. Perhaps tomorrow, or simply hope. What if he dies, Elrohir? What if we never get to speak with him again?"  
  
Elrohir nodded sadly. "What if the race of Men never has its King?" He refused to be pulled into his brother's melancholy, but also refused to deny the possibilities.  
  
"I hate this blasted helplessness!" Elladan cried. "Why is it we can do nothing?"  
  
His brother shrugged his shoulders, then rose and went to the window. "The sun sets, Elladan. Let us ride out with the border patrol. This at least will take our minds from Estel and from Mama. Come on, up, off that bed."  
  
Elrohir reached to pull Elladan up, but Elladan shrugged him off. "If he is all right, we must stay, Elrohir. We must bend ourselves to this long and arduous task of earning his trust. Is it even worth it? How much longer will it be until Adar tells him the truth? It will take ages for him to trust us again, then. . ."  
  
"Gondolin wasn't built in a day," Elrohir stated matter-of-factly. "Now, up, dress appropriately and let us be going!" This referred to Elladan's sweat-stained tunic. Seeing no better options, Elladan stood.  
  
*  
  
Birds twittered and rays of sunlight slanted over Estel's body. In a chair nearby the Lord of Imladris sat with his chin against his chest. For a moment nothing stirred within the Hall of Healing, and then Estel groaned and threw an arm across his eyes.  
  
"Estel?" The sound alert Elrond and, for what may well have been the fifth time that day, he leapt to his feet. Then, recalling previous awakenings on the counts of a mouse, a snap of the fire or Glorfindel, Elrond sank dejectedly back into his chair to wait and feel helpless. Knowing he could do nothing was terrible enough, but to wake to think Estel returned to him, only to find that it was not so. . .  
  
This time, Elrond rose slowly from his chair and looked about the room. Everything seemed in order. He would wait no longer, hope rising and falling as a sleeper's chest. That particular torture affected him very badly, and he would stay willingly for none of it.  
  
"Ada?"  
  
Estel's voice was weak and his throat sore, but the word came unmistakably from him.  
  
Elrond was beside himself, not knowing what to do. He woke! Estel awoke! Ah, what a wonderful day it was indeed. No, those birdcalls were most certainly gay and not annoying. How could anything be annoying? It was a perfect morning.  
  
For his part, Estel was trying to remember what had gone on, and why he was in the Hall of Healing rather than his own bed, when he was swept into a hug of such degrees he had trouble breathing for it.  
  
"Oh, Estel, my Estel, you've come back!"  
  
"Was I gone?" he mumbled.  
  
"You very nearly left us for ever," Elrond said as he drew away from Estel. "Do you remember nothing?" Estel shook his head, no, he did not recall. "You were very sick, and we all. . .we were afraid you would not come back."  
  
Estel slumped his shoulders, not having the effort to keep his posture proper. "Is that why you are petting me? Because you are glad I am still here?"  
  
"Yes, child." Tears glistened in his eyes as Elrond spoke his mind: "Though perhaps you are not glad for it."  
  
"Wh-what do you mean?" But that shock and fear showed too clearly and too deeply to be a lie.  
  
"Estel," Elrond said quietly, "I wish you would tell me when you have these doubts of yourself. You are not here on charity, and no one suffers having you." He had not finished speaking, but could not continue as the door slammed open and with uncharacteristic noise Elladan and Elrohir entered the Hall.  
  
"Ada, go!" Estel gasped.  
  
Elrond looked curiously at him. "Why--"  
  
But Estel would have none of it. "Ada, please, you have to go, now! You are needed!"  
  
As though brought by Estel's speech Elladan called loudly, "Ada, we need you! Please come! Someone is hurt!" He might have given a name but had none for the body he carried.  
  
One final time Elrond hugged Estel, then promised to come back and disappeared. Estel took a deep breath. Elladan might not have been able to identify the Elfling, but Estel could. Without seeing him, Estel knew who had come.  
  
Silently, carefully, he threw back the coverlet and stood on legs made awkward by days of lying in bed. The cold of the floor seeped into his toes and caused the soles of his feet to cry out for the warmth left behind, but Estel forced himself forward, one step at a time.  
  
From the sounds he understood that there would be a flight of stairs involved in this journey. Clutching the rail with both hands, he stepped onto the first step, then the second. At the fourth step his foot slipped and he nearly fell, but caught himself just in time. For the safety of it Estel sunk down against the wall. "I can't do this," he moaned, shaking his head.  
  
"Yes, you can," another part of him answered. "If you can do it once you can do it a million times." With a deep sigh he pulled himself to his feet and started over, taking one step after another, going slowly. The sound level above him continued in a state of chaos; but then, if Estel was right that chaos would be justified. The reason he struggled up the steps was the same: he had to know if he was right.  
  
At last a landing! Too wearied to be pleased with himself, Estel managed the last few steps. Leaning against a doorframe, he watched as Elladan, Elrohir and Elrond tended the newcomer's wounds as best they could, cleaning away the blood and pressing clean swabs against them. Elrohir looked to his father and shook his head. "I do not know what could have happened to him."  
  
From the doorway, Estel piped, "I do." Then he slid down to the floor, exhausted, and went back to sleep.  
  
*****  
  
The End!  
  
Haha, I cannot help it, it's just so. . .ah! Well, check out the sequel. (shameless self-promotion) That will answer all questions. I'll start on it as soon as I'm back from holiday. 


End file.
